


To Bloom

by WeMadeMonsters



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-23 19:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMadeMonsters/pseuds/WeMadeMonsters
Summary: Steve helps Bucky remember something he forgot, something he had buried inside himself before the war.





	To Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by @bicappy‘s art on tumblr. This is also my first attempt at actually writing anything in years, even if it is just a drabble, but it's a headcanon that I've carried with me for a while.

There are two candles on their dining table.

Bucky does not know where the candles came from, nor the table itself. Really, they are Steve’s candles. It is Steve’s table. He had these things when Bucky came back, but Steve is quick to call them ‘ours’. This makes sense to Bucky, they always shared things before. Christmas oranges, toys… Dinners, when dinners were scarce. Kisses, when no one was looking. 

It is practical to adopt Steve’s furnishings, so he does. It is practical to adopt Steve’s routine too, so that as well becomes ‘theirs’. But there is a blip, on Friday nights. There is an absence. There is something that was there before, more ancient than the war, that fills his heart with longing, especially when he sees the new candles. So there he sits, when the sun goes down on Friday nights. His hands are both pressed to the wooden table, and he watches the candles, waiting for something he does not understand to happen. 

Bucky is aware that Steve is present in his vigil, standing in the doorway. He leans on one side, crosses his arms, and watches Bucky. This is not unusual, Steve is usually watching him in one capacity or another. But he says nothing, so Bucky says nothing. There are both spoken and unspoken rules about allowing Bucky to discover his own memories, but this one is well buried. 

The week after the candles appeared, Steve sits down with him at the table before the sun goes down. He already cooked dinner, but instead of serving it immediately Steve said they’d eat later. Bucky accepts this, and something falls into place in his heart. This is correct. There is bread on the table though, and a bottle of wine. Something stirs deeply in him, and he finds himself fussing with the placement of everything, until it looks right. 

Just as the sun is setting, Steve stands, and strikes a match, lighting both candles. He closes his eyes, though Bucky’s remain open, watching him as he begins to speak. “Baruch atah Adonai…” The words are certain, and they strike something deep in Bucky - he knows these words. He knows this ritual. “Eloheinu Melech haolam,” Steve continues, and Bucky joins him. “Asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat.”

There are tears in his eyes, and Steve reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers, and all he can do is nod his head, as if agreeing to some unspoken question. After a few moments, he is collected, and together they recite the Kiddush, and Bucky finds himself shaking as he uncovers the bread. Again they speak together, reciting the Motzi, and after the bread is cut Bucky watches Steve sprinkle salt over his piece and he follows suit. It is muscle memory then, and thoughts of Steve joining them on Friday nights for Shabbat come flooding back. The Barnes’ had enough to celebrate, and Sarah would send Steve almost every week, to make sure he had a supper every night. 

Steve brings out dinner from the kitchen; a sickly looking beef pot roast with mashed potatoes and vegetables that are almost certainly boiled to death. They eat, they drink, and they take the task of clearing the table together. Later, they are sitting on the living room floor, crosslegged and facing one another. Steve holds Bucky’s wrists in his hands, tracing veins and metal plating alike. Bucky contemplates the situation as they sit in silence, and then, he speaks. 

“Thanks, Steve. I… I needed that.” Steve smiles, he seems relieved. Bucky wonders how much he did from memory, and how much research he did. How much research he would do, if this became a part of their regular life. How much he himself would have to learn again. “Your pot roast really sucked, though.” Steve reaches out, and pushes him over. Bucky laughs.

“Punk.”  
“Jerk.”


End file.
